


Drowning In Womb Water

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Abortion, Abuse, Babies, Birth, Branding, Breastfeeding, Closeted Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Violence, Dystopia, Eventual Happy Ending, Execution, F/F, Fertility Issues, Forced Pregnancy, Gender Roles, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I swear it's not as bad as it seems, Infertility, Lesbians, Maternal Instinct, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherly Anne Boleyn, Motherly Catherine of Aragon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Periods, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, References to The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Servants, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Servitude, Social Anxiety, Soft Catherine of Aragon, Teen Pregnancy, The Handmaid's Tale AU, Touch-Starved, anne and kitty are still cousins. kit's mom was a handmaid for henry but died giving birth to her, aragon anne and bessie are handmaids, but bessie is also kind of a jezebel. poor girl, but like. a nice one, cleves is an aunt, culpeper and george are gurdians, henry is a commander, jane and cathy are wives, kitty is jane's daughter, maggie joan and maria are marthas, she tries to help the girls, some things may be different from in the show/book, the goverment is fucked up, well. kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: Infertility is running wild through Europe. Fewer and fewer babies are being born. To save the population, a social order is set in place: Men and women are split into different social statuses, and the most important, but also most oppressed, are the Handmaids, the only fertile women left in the nation. They are the sexual servants to families and are tasked only with breeding and supplying more babies...whether they like it or not.Anne and Aragon are both Handmaids for the powerful Henry Tudor and his two Wives, Jane and Cathy. They've been together for as long as they could remember. Their work is not easy, nor is the strain of them seemingly always carrying a baby, but they've learned to accept it. But when a young girl is discovered to be fertile, the two of them will fight tooth and nail to hide her secret from the prying eyes of infertile-twisted, dystopian London and make sure she doesn't end up like them, even if it puts their lives on the line in the process.OR:The Handmaid's Tale AU
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn & Katherine Howard, Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr, Henry VIII of England/Jane Seymour, Katherine Howard & Jane Seymour
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Drowning In Womb Water

**Author's Note:**

> Social Status (in order of ranking)  
> Commanders- Powerful men of the nation  
> Angels- Soldiers on the front line  
> Wives- Powerful women of the nation  
> Aunts- Strict and powerful female officers  
> Guardians- Personal soldiers, bodyguards, and servants for Commanders  
> Handmaids- Breeding servants for families  
> Marthas- Servants, maids, or housekeepers  
> Jezebels- Women forced into prostitution  
> Unwomen- The lowest of society
> 
> Ages  
> Aragon- 29; Anne- 28; Jane- 27; Cleves- 25; Kitty- 9; Cathy- 25; Bessie- 23; Maria- 21; Maggie- 17; Joan- 12; Edward- 2; Henry- 40

The shriek of a baby filled the sick room. The tiny, writhing, fluid-coated thing is lifted from between its exhausted mother’s legs and wiped down.

“It’s a boy,” The midwife announced with a beaming smile.

The Commander standing at the doorway cracks a hint of a smile. His Wife clapped her hands together with a blissful expression. The Handmaid lying on the bed looked desolate and tired.

“What shall his name be?” The midwife asked the Commander and his Wife, pleasantly ignoring the actual mother of the child. The Handmaid herself doesn’t appear to care very much, though.

“A hearty baby boy like this deserves a strong name,” The Commander said, peering down at the pudgy little thing. He seemed pleased at how big he was, and not at all concerned about how difficult that would have been to push out for his Handmaid.

A whimper then caught his ears. He looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes at his Handmaid, only to realize it hadn’t been her, but one of the young servants his neighbor’s Handmaids had brought along. He rolled his eyes at her distressed expression.

“Alfred,” The Wife said. She glanced up at her husband and he smiled down at her. She whisked the baby into her arms and cuddled it close to her chest, to her dry breasts, as if it really were her own.

“Alfred,” The Commander echoed. “It’s perfect.”

“...Alfred? Please. What an old name. I could do so much better.”

“...Shh.”

“...Who, me? What did I say? Nothing, that’s what. _You’re_ the one being noisy. I’m just standing here. Being still. A model Handmaid, me.”

The Commander peered over at the far side of the room, narrowing his eyes at the whispering pair of Handmaids. One bowed her head in an apologetic gesture, the other dared to raise her chin and put on an angelic expression. He huffed loudly through his nose.

“Come, my dear.” He said, escorting his Wife out of the room. Instantly, once he’s gone, a certain tension in the room is lifted.

“You buffoon,” Aragon hissed at the woman beside her. “You could have had us both hung.”

“Oh please.” Anne rolled her eyes. “You can’t be hung with your bun in the oven.” She pat the three month bump protruding from under Aragon’s robe, smirking at the way she doesn’t move away from her hand. “ _Besides_ , we were just gossiping. Alfred is an _awful_ name.”

“It truly is,” Wheezed the Handmaid lying in the bed. The others bustled over to her immediately. Aragon clasped one of her clammy hands in her own.

“Oh, Beatrix,” Aragon murmured as she brushed away some stray sweaty locks. “You did wonderful, dear. Simply wonderful.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” Beatrix grunted. “That was hell.”

“Well, it’s over now.” Anne said, smoothing the unruly hair on her head.

“For right now...” Beatrix muttered.

All five Handmaids in the room tended, knowing exactly what she meant. Beatrix would soon be filled with yet another unwanted load of semen, another restless fetus, another baby that she wouldn’t be allowed to keep. They all would.

Because they were Handmaids—the last fertile women in the world. Sexual servants to men and their families. Made only to breed until they couldn’t anymore.

Another whimper snapped them all out of their grim thoughts. Aragon and Anne turned to their companion, one of their Commander’s servants, a young girl with long blonde hair and striking moon silver eyes named Joan.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Aragon asked softly. She noticed the way the girl had her arms wrapped around her stomach.

Joan nodded. “I-I think so...” She said. “M-my stomach just hurts a little. That’s all.”

“Oh, poor dear,” An older Handmaid named Marge (her Handmaid name was Ofcole) cooed pitifully.

“Did she eat something bad?” Another Handmaid, a brunette woman named Leila (Ofchase was her Handmaid name), asked.

“I’m not sure,” Anne answered. “Did you, Joan?”

Joan just shrugged a little and looked away shyly.

The poor girl has always been very reclusive and anxious ever since Henry employed her as a servant nine months ago. She was quiet, clumsy, and always so stressed out, but she was absolutely brilliant on the piano. Aragon, Anne, and the other Handmaids wonder if that’s the only reason she’s kept around, seeing as she wasn’t the best at anything else.

“What did you think of the birth?” Anne asked, hoping to take the poor girl’s mind off of her discomfort.

“Huh? Oh, uhh...” Joan looked down sheepishly. “It was kinda...weird.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why was it so _slimy_?”

Beatrix actually laughed. It was refreshing to see her darkened expression flicker off of her face, even for just a moment.

“I’d rather it be slimy than dry,” She said. “Makes it easier to push out.”

“Ew.” Joan said, causing another uproar of giggles. Then, she winced and her hands flew back to her stomach.

“Maybe you should go sit down, honey.” Aragon suggested with a worried look. “We’ll leave soon, alright?”

Joan nodded and shuffled over to one of the chairs against the wall.

“Try not to worry,” Anne told Aragon softly. “Stress is bad for the baby.”

“Oh, shut it,” Aragon batted her away playfully. She looked back at Beatrix. “What did you want his name to be? You baby.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Beatrix admitted. “I didn’t think there was a point. I was going to lose him anyway.”

“Oh, come on, Bea,” Anne nudged the woman. “I _know_ you can do better than ‘Alfred’!”

Beatrix laughed a little again, then thought it over.

“Ashton. I like Ashton.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Aragon smiled.

Then, there was a sharp whimper, followed by a yelp. The Handmaids turned around and stared in shock at Joan...

...and the trails of red streaming down her legs from underneath her dress.

“Wait,” Anne gaped. “She’s- that’s her- that means—”

“Oh god no,” Aragon muttered in horror.

Joan looked up at them, her own terror contorting her pale features, and squeaked out, “Am I dying?”


End file.
